I hold out loud
conversations
with the ghost of you
in my bed.

His eyes became wells
overflowing
buckets of regret
drawn from the emptiness
that crawls up his walls.

The colors run
passionate
cotton candy
water colors.

Who would ever see
beyond my flaws
and still want me forever
despite them?

Broken images
flash through the mind.

All the joy and togetherness
of family
gone.

When you live in a kaleidoscope
the loss of colour to life
leaves more emptiness
in its absence.

And your tears
are useless platitudes
to the thought
of ever having it back.

And her love
has become
the very thing
you always feared
it would.

And this broken family
has broken again.

"How do you carry
the weight
of memories?"
I asked.

She looked at me,
tears filling her eyes.

The Pull of Death
has many names:

Jim
Dad
Woody
Papa
Randy
Arkeem
Noni
Lexi
Tim

What do you do
when the person
who is
your heart,
dies?

How do you love the right way?
How do you trust the right way?
How do you accept the right way?
How do you?

How
do
you?

My brilliant past
has constricted down
from a vibrant family life
full of
love
smiles
hugs
support
memories
unconditional

down to a bare leftover remnant
of all that was.

And my tears over this
and my cries of

"I want my family back!"

into the black

mean nothing
miles away
from what doesn't even exist
anymore.

When you can't
carry the weight
how much
can whiskey hold?

I'm still
just a little
boy
wondering,
"What happened?"